A Mother's Love
by Jill G. Lowrey
Summary: While trying to stop the Apocalypse, Sam and Dean hunt a voodoo priest that is doing some major damage in the Bayoo and calling up more than he can handle, but they aren’t the only one’s hunting the priest.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

An old cathedral stood black and foreboding amidst the destruction from the most recent hurricane. It was dark out as a young girl waited outside by a crooked lamppost. She fiddled with something on a chain around her neck, whispering words. She watched from across the street as a young blonde walked into the church, a rosary hanging from her hand.

Still waiting, the young woman wrapped her arm across her stomach as her jaw clenched. She began to tremble slightly, but waited anyway. She had to see, she needed to be sure. Slowly she walked across the street, entering the building.

Her boots barely made any noise as she tiptoed into the front door, her fingers dipping into the holy water, blessing herself before looking through the large glass windows. She watched as the girl with the rosary knelt in the pews. Relief swept over her as she saw that the girl was still there and perfectly fine. She turned to leave, grateful to know that this one was okay.

In the empty the church behind a pillar, the priest watched as the face in the glass of the front door left. Quickly he walked down the aisle to the young blonde. She would be perfect, he knew her heart, knew her mind from Saturday after Saturday of Confessions. She was a good catholic girl, a lovely honorable girl. He grabbed her arm, wrapping it around her back.

He stuffed a bag into her open mouth as she started to scream. No sound escaped her mouth as she collapsed to the floor. Stepping over the motionless body, he pulled her out of the pew to pick her up. He carried the limp body back past the alter to a small door normally unnoticed.

"There is a case in Louisiana, four girls are missing-" Sam began when he was cut off by Dean.

"Dude, we are not going back there." Dean protested as the Impala speed down the interstate through Mississippi, their headlights illuminating the many strange shapes made by the overgrowth of vines that have killed many of the trees.

"Why not?" Sam retorted, rolling his head to stretch out his neck as he looked over at Dean. They had been driving for hours heading vaguely in the direction of Bobby's house.

"Because there are hundreds of hoodoo, voodoo, and other kinds of crap, and it all requires the same shit to do their messed-up mojo." Dean yelled as he slammed his hand against the steering wheel to emphasize his point.

"Dean, most of the witches and priests in Louisiana are just medicine men that know a lot about the plants in the area. It's not that much different than a doctor giving you a prescription."

"Not that different from doctors, Sam, they use blood and bones, and kill the frickin rabbits." Dean said looking over at him as his voice raised just slightly at the mention of ganking rabbits. He looked back at the road shaking his head.

"Dean, most of the priest have been forced out of the area due to the Hurricanes. There are rumors that they are running from something big. I think we should at least check it out." Sam pushed back looking at Dean with his puppy dog eyes.

"Fine, we'll check it out." Dean responded to Sam's pressing, getting off at the closet exit heading toward Baton Rouge, Louisiana.

The Impala pulled into a spot in front of the Kings Highway Inn, a small dark wooden building that barely resembled a hotel. Getting out of the car, Dean scanned the surrounding area; the air seemed heavy as he looked at the dark shadow seeming to cover the whole area despite the sun shining through the trees in a few spots. Barely suppressing a shudder, he followed Sam into the front door of the hotel.

Sam walked up to the front desk or rather what was the bar. The building was obviously one of those old saloon/brothels with two or three rooms upstairs and an old fashion bar with the big pain of glass behind it. They did business just about the same way, over a beer at the bar.

After chugging his beer and getting the key to the room, Dean picked up his duffle bag and walked up the steps to collapse into bed. Sam stayed to pump some info from the bartender and finish his beer.

"So how long have you been working here." He asked watching as the bartender wiped down the bar.

"Longer than I intended to." was the bartender's short reply.

"Sounds like me." Sam replied, being equally cryptic with his meaning. "When was this place built?"

"Before you were born." again with the short replies.

"So when you were born." Sam replied, being a smart-ass.

"Boy, do I look that old." The Bartender said sharply.

"No, no, I was just wondering if you heard anything about those girls that have gone missing." Sam said, regretting his previous statement.

"What do I look like, a newspaper." The bartender replied, stopping momentarily in his scrubbing, suspicious. Sam shrugged as he finished his drink, dropping a bill on the table to pay for the drinks. The town was certainly tight lipped about what's going on.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

The dinner was reasonably clean if not sparse. They had a few mismatched wooden tables and chairs, and the front window had a spider web of cracks emanating from a stake that was still stuck in the window. The rest of the place looked reasonably clean although still in shabby shape from the hurricane damage.

"So what did you find out?" Dean asked.

"Not much," Sam replied as his eyes scanned the computer screen,

Dean placed his order with the waitress while Sam's forehead slowly furrowed into meditative thought. Just before she left, he ordered a cup of coffee. After a few more moments of staring at the screen, Sam looked up to say, "I was just looking at the missing person's report. Apparently the girls told their parents that they were heading to confession at St. Barbra's, when they didn't come back that night their parents got nervous than called the police the next day."

"Why didn't they just call the girls, I mean, almost every teenage girl in America has a cell phone." Dean balked.

"Almost all the towers in the area have been destroyed by the Hurricanes," Sam said as he checked his cell phone, "I don't have service out here."

Dean checked his own before swearing. "Alright, so what are you thinking, the girls were lying to their parents to go out and party all night." He asked after jamming the useless device back into his pocket.

"Maybe, or maybe they got into some weird trouble." Sam replied turning back to his Laptop

"Any similarities between vics." Dean asked, eyeing the cracked front window.

"They all went to the same school, St. Patrick's High School." Sam replied, moving down the screen, his eyes taking in just the meaningful information on the scanned black and white page from the police's office.

"St. Patrick's, St. Barbra, what are they, Catholic." Dean asked as the waitress set down his

"I would assume so." Sam replied, perplexed. "It would match the story that they were going to confession."

"So what, are we dealing with some seriously pissed off demon capturing catholic schoolgirls."

"It could be Lucifer trying to break another seal for a horseman or something." Sam remarked, picking up his coffee.

"Alright," Dean replied picking up his sandwich, "We should talk to the parents."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

The Impala pulled up in front of a quaint home in the middle of ruins. Looking around the rest of the building were missing bits here and there, but this one was just fine. It isn't particularly noticeable unless you were looking for something strange or Supernatural. Sam filed this information in the back of his mind, it might come in handy later.

The pair of them walked down the sidewalk, dressed up in black suits. They looked rather official with the ties and smart jackets. At the door, Dean rang the doorbell; adjusting the neck of his shirt as he waited, dress shirts always felt tight around his throat when he had a tie on. It was like wearing a decorative noose around his neck for any one of the demons to hang him by.

When the door open, his face flashed into a calm smile as he addressed the woman, "Mrs. Laffette, I'm Agent West and this is Agent Theban, FBI. We would like to ask you some questions about your daughter."

"Oh, yes, come in," she replied as she moved out of the door, beckoning them into her home barely glancing at their badges, "Kathy said someone might come. A friend of yours met with her a few days ago about her daughter."

"Um- Wh- Did she happen to say the name of the agent?" Sam stuttered as he walked in. He attempted to gather information out of the corner of his eye as he focused his gaze on the older woman that opened the door.

"Yes, I think she said her name was Agent Bethel." Mrs. Laffette said as he walked into the living room, "It was a woman, dark hair, really young and strangely pretty- Kathy said that she had hope of finding the girls soon."

"Yes, well, we- we do have hope." Sam managed to stutter out as he followed. His mind was working overdrive trying to figure out who it could have been. He tried to think of the Hunters in the area that might be working this job. Dean on the other hand was looking around the room, he noticed the multiple cast iron crosses around the room, a shrine of Mary took up most of the back of the living room, a closed television case was stuck in a corner across from her, but the coach and the room seemed to draw all of the attention to the shrine. Looking behind Mary, he could see a small crucifix hanging on the wall.

"That is so good to hear, you have no idea how worried we have been. I just don't understand who would take a girl from a church." Mrs. Laffett's voice drew Dean's attention from the candles around the shrine.

"Neither do we. If you don't mind Mrs. Laffette, I have a few questions I would like to ask you." Sam responded seating himself on a coach across from the woman as she looked at Mary, gratitude and love in her eyes.

"Of Course." She responded, tearing her attention from Mary to look at Sam, expecting some miracle at his hand.

"Do you mind if I take a look around your daughter's room?" Dean asked before Sam could start, he smirked, trying to be reassuring, but that had never been his thing.

"If you think it would help, go right ahead. It is the second door on the right." Mrs. Laffette said pointing down a hall. Dean nodded in acknowledgement as he left Sam and the woman.

Promptly, Sam began his questioning, "Have you notice anything strange around the house lately, like flickering lights, radio's turning on, smell of rotten eggs?"

"No, not all." Mrs. Laffette responded, nervously.

"Has your daughter been acting strangely lately?" Sam continued to ask, taking notes in a small book he pulled from inside of his jacket.

The voices faded away as Dean slowly walked down the hallway. He looked at the various photos collaged on the wall, pictures of a young blonde her arms around her father, smiling; a family reunion with the same girl in a sea of blonde hair, probably her cousins; the typical family portrait taken at some Wal-mart or JC Penny photo lab. They all looked so happy, so normal.

He opened the door to her room, sniffing carefully. No smell of sulfur, everything looked normal for a teenage girl. Posters of bands and hot celebrity guys were plastered on the wall besides an unmade bed. Perfume bottles, nail polish and a dish of jewelry were splayed across her dresser.

Dean carefully stepped over a school blouse mixed with other clothing to get to her desk. It was typical of a teenager, a total mess with two or three drafts of a school paper sitting out. A math test was sticking out of a pile of History books, Dean could just make out a 100 percent at the top of the page. Unabashedly he took out her journal, a frilly art deco book, and started to leaf through it, reading the most recent entries.

His eyes met as he read, "St. John 3:16- For God so loved the world…, Psalms 23:4- Ye though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…, Ecclesiastes 3 – There is a time for everything a time for every affair under the heavens…, Wisdom 3: 1- But the souls of the just are in the hand of God…" Dean read on, one after another verses were written out; sometimes whole sheets would just have one verse written over and over again. Every few pages there would be something she wrote, just little notes on life. They always started, Thank you God for… then talked about some guy who wouldn't look at her that day, even though she had the worst crush on him, or about how her parents were fighting that night again. All those things that you normally got mad at God for letting happen, she wrote thank-you to him for doing.

Deciding that Sam might be able to get more out of the book, Dean pocketed it; Sam was the touchier feely one, although not so much anymore. Dean checked by the window, no sulfur, no salt, nothing strange. He checked around the room, looking through the papers on the desk. Nothing, there was nothing strange or out of the ordinary. It was weirdly normal, she had nothing even remotely satanic or devilish, not even red or black.

Doing a once more over the room to see if there was anything he missed, a piece of chalk, a mojo bag, a pentagram anywhere, a container of salt even. There was nothing, just nothing strange. With a grim feeling he left, walking back to the living room where Sam was on the last of the routine questions. He was barely listening as he stood near the front door.

Sam looked up as he entered the room, knowing that his brother had found what he needed. He kindly excused himself and his brother to leave.

Mrs. Laffette walked them to the door, waving sadly as they left, yet still she had a smile on her face.

Sam waved back, smiling himself until the door closed. Instantly his face fell as he muttered, "Well that was helpful."

"What did you find out from the mom?" Dean asked, sighing at the futility of this interview.

"Nothing," Sam responded curtly, "Clarissa was a perfect Catholic teenager, she attended church every day before going to school, got good grades, mainly A's with one or two B's, and apparently prayed constantly."

"So what she used prayer as a cover and snuck out most nights?" Dean responded, trying to understand what was going on. It just wasn't normal for a teenager to want to do all that junk. He was praying at that age, but it wasn't in English or because he wanted to. He prayed because it killed the demon and saved his family's life.

"No, actually she prayed in the living room before Mary." Sam said consulting his notes, "Her mother even said that she has found her asleep before Mary with a rosary in her hand."

He looked through his notes carefully before finally declaring, "Dean, she is like a Saint."

To Sam's surprise his brother replied, "I know, look at what I found in her room." He held out her journal. Sam took it in his hands, flipping open to the last few pages. After reading a couple he turned to the beginning, his face getting more and more concerned.

"It's all scriptures." He stated, perplexed.

"I know." Dean affirmed before asking, "You think she went to Confession?"

Without answering the question, Sam looked at Dean and said, "Do you think we should talk to the other parents, see if the other girls had similar stories."

"No, we got lucky with this one," Dean responded, looking at the large house from across the car, "who knows who this 'Agent Bethel' has met. I say we go meet the priest."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

Sam and Dean walk up to the Cathedral, one building standing tall among the destruction. Sam was glad to notice that the church did not escape with zero damage as two or three windows stood devoid of their stained glass. They slipped into the heavy oak doors, their black suits enveloped in the darkness of the gothic cathedral. The air inside was sticky and heavy with the smell of incense. Candles burning everywhere cast the entire place in an eerie glow, a point which did not escape Sam or Dean as they entered.

Walking down the center of the church they see the priest kneeling before the altar, his coat hanging over the back of the first pew. Sam looks carefully at the priest while Dean checked the altar looking for anything out of the ordinary or strange. Neither one betrayed what they perceived but made mental note to share with the other what was going on.

Dean cleared his throat, the sound echoed through the empty chapel, a moment that surprised him. Quickly composing himself after his surprise though, the pair stepped up to the priest who had turned to see them, pushing himself up before grabbing his coat. When they reached him Sam began, "I am Agent Theban, this is Agent West, we have a few questions about some girls who have gone missing recently."

"Oh yes, it has been a tragedy for the community." The priest said turning to look to the cross as though for help, "First the hurricanes, now these attacks, sometimes it seems God is insistent on diminishing my flock just as he reduced Gideon's armies before he attacked the Philistines."

Jumping on that thought, Sam asked, "Do you believe that perhaps this is some kind of divine intervention for some evil?" He shooed away Dean's perplexed look, silently promising to explain later.

"Perhaps. God works in mysterious ways through his people." The priest replied with a smile.

"So," Dean said, taking over, "It was reported that these girls all attended Confession shortly before being taken. Have you noticed anything or anyone strange around the church lately?"

"There was one girl," The priest said shaking his head, "She seemed harmless enough, but I have often seen her at the entrance to the church, watching."

"Did it seem like she was looking for anyone in particular?" Dean pressed, "Have you noticed a strange smell following her, perhaps like sulfur?"

"No, but she was always looking," the priest replied, something like fear crossing his face, "her look was- it was like she could see in my soul. She seemed troubled, upset, almost like something was driving her to do something she didn't want to do."

"Could you describe her for us?" Dean asked, always the same questions in close to the same order. It was all a matter of getting the information they needed to know to solve the case, not figure out the meaning of life or anything.

"Umm, shorter in stature, young, brown hair… Oh, yes, I have this." The priest said as he pulled a picture out of his pocket, it was a black and white security camera photo, somewhat fuzzy, but showing a good picture of the girls face. "I was going to bring it over to the police station after mass. Perhaps you will get more use out of it than they would."

"Thank you very much." Sam said as he took it, looking at the face of the girl.

"When you saw her did her eyes ever appear black or maybe red, perhaps a trick of the light?" Dean asked after glancing at the photograph, she was cute but probably a killer. The cute one's were always the killers.

"No, not that I remember, I have never gotten close to her, I have just seen her waiting outside the church. You don't think she had anything to do with this?" The priest told them, seemingly at a loss as to how he could help.

"We just want to be thorough." Sam reassured him.

"Yes, of course." The priest seceded, "If there isn't anything else, I should prepare for Mass."

"Sure Father. Thank you very much for you time." Sam replied as he pocketed the picture.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

_Author's Note: I deserve to be shot, hung, burned at the stake. This has been done for a llllloooonnnnggg time, I just have not put it up. So I reiterate, I should be shot. To make up for that though, here is two chapters. Please forgive me and keep reading._

Back in their hotel room Sam sat on his computer looking up information on the mysterious girl. So far there was nothing. He checked everywhere, police reports, newspaper clippings, obituaries, everywhere he could think of, but found nothing. Still he scanned through more and more information online.

Dean was flipping through religious text trying to find any seals or dark angel things that required Catholic Schoolgirls or sacrificial virgins. Piles sat on either side of him on the coach, he absentmindedly flipped through a version of Revelations before asking Sam, "Who is this girl, what does she want?"

"I don't know, Dean." Sam replied closing his computer, everything was swimming in front of his eyes. He couldn't stand looking at the screen anymore, things just weren't adding up. Not that they normally did. I mean how much does add up when you spend your life hunting ghosts and killing demons.

"You think she will try again tonight?" Sam asked, making eye contact with Dean when he looked up from his book.

"Maybe," Dean shrugged, "What, are you thinking a stakeout?"

"Yeah." Sam replied before getting up to get his coat and the thermos for coffee.

The impala hid in the pitch black that surrounded the church. The church should be a beacon of light to the people in the area especially now in the midst of so much tragedy, but with kidnappings it was just another dangerous place. Sam sat in the passenger seat watching the front door to the chapel, while Dean dozed softly behind the wheel. Suddenly Sam yelled Dean's name as he patted his arm. Dean jumped away in time to see a young brunette walk into the chapel.

"Do you think that's her?" Dean asked, still somewhat groggy from just being woken up.

"Maybe, let's go check it out." Sam replied getting out of the car. Dean followed shortly after him, getting his footing and awareness of his surrounding, slowly the two of them walked to the front door, flanking it on either side. They hid in the shadows, prepared to grab the girl when she came back out. To Sam's surprise, he looked across the street to see the girl from the photograph standing beside a flickering bent light post. He receded farther into the shadows; they would surprise her from behind.

Quietly, carefully Sam waited until she had passed him, then as quiet as a cat he pounced from behind, grabbing her arms behind her. Dean sprang out from the other side just in time to see the girl rip her arms out of Sam's vice like grip to elbow him in the nose. Blood burst forth from where she hit, running down his mouth. She turned, grabbing his shoulders, going in to knee him in the groin. Before she could do that though, Dean had his arm around her throat in a headlock, reaching for her arm. Before he could get her arm, the girl swung around her body to grab Dean around the waist, using her knee she kicked in his knee to cause both of them to go to the ground.

Pulling her around, Dean caused most of the shock to go through the woman's body, taking only a small scrap or two on his elbows when he broke his fall. She exhaled hard, but still maintained a solid grip around his waist. Sam jumped behind Dean and began working at the girls hands when Dean whipped his elbow around, cracking the girl in the temple.

Her body when limp beneath him, he didn't care, she was just a murder. Standing up over her body, he looked at his brother before asking if he was okay. He nodded yes, his voice thick from the blood pouring from his nose.

Back in their hotel room, the girl was bound to a wooden chair in the middle of the room. The mattress was flipped against the wall to the bathroom and the bed frame with it. Around the girl was a devils trap drawn in white chalk, and around that a circle of salt. Dean looked over his tools, an iron bar, a flask of holy water, canister of salt, silver knives, wooden stakes, all manner of weapons laid out on the coach waiting to be put to use with this _thing_.

Slowly she regained consciousness; a groan escaped her lips as she looked up. A smear of blood ran down the side of her head where Dean had hit her.

"Morning Princess, you got a name?" Dean asked when she began to awaken.

"None that I would tell you, Dean," The girl sneered, "Although if you have to call me something, call me Ruth."

"Okay, Ruthie, how did you know my name." Dean asked, tilting his head as he looked at her. She thought she really was some grand master, some powerful thing.

"Dean Winchester, didn't you know?" Ruth replied her voice raising and lowering like a song, "You're famous just about everywhere across the veil. So much so that almost everyone on this side that have ears to hear know about you."

"If you know so much about the dealings on the other side, than you know who I am, or rather what I am. So why don't you enlighten me and tell me what you are?" Dean asked, circling around the bound girl, careful not to smudge the devils trap or the line of salt.

"Dean, Dean, Dean. You always have so many questions? No wonder so many people get so upset over you."

"Answer the question."

She just smiled smugly at him, a sneer playing at her lips. Slowly she starts singing, a lullaby. Some words roll off her tongue, other catch in her throat as she sings. The language is completely foreign to Dean, a fact that surprises both him and Sam. Fed up with her tricks, Dean opens the flask of Holy water, holding it up to her, threateningly.

"What are you?" Dean asked once more, giving her one last chance before he used the water.

"That's not going to do anything boys." She responded nonchalantly. In frustration, Dean whipped the water across her face. She cringed slightly as the water hit, but nothing happened, no burning, nothing. Sam picked up the salt gripping it tightly as he walked in front of her.

"Oh, really like that is going to hurt." She sneered back at his moving figure, her face following his every move.

"What do you want with the girls?" Sam asked, one of the few times he used any sort of authority in his voice. When she didn't answer, Sam whipped a stream of salt across her face. It stuck to the holy water on her cheeks, mixing with the blood on her forehead and seeped into the wound, making it burn. Despite the pain though, Ruth remained calm, her face betraying nothing but arrogance.

Dean picked up a silver knife from the table, the blade gleaming in the dim light. "Now that might do some damage." Ruth replied as she watched the light play cross the blade. Despite her words though, her face was impassive, fearless. Dean drug the blade across her bare forearm, she winced slightly, every bit of her fighting the urge to cry out in pain. Dean sneered as he watched her breath get heavier. His sneer became even more pronounced when he saw that Ruth's arm did not burn or bubble like it should. Standing up, he turned to his table of tools.

When Dean walked away, Ruth looked down at her arm. It was strange how the blood just dripped slowly from the corners of the long wound, "That's gonna hurt in the morning." She remarked turning her head to see what new weapon Dean was going to choose to get her to "spill all".

"What else you got, boys, wanna try iron." She says, interpreting Dean's hesitation as a moment of weakness, "Or maybe an exorcism, yeah that will work." She sneered at Dean's back, ignoring the way Sam tried to burn her alive with his eyes.

With his back turned to her, Dean spoke, venom lacing his every word, "I don't know what you are, princess, but we will find out, and whatever you are planning it ain't gonna happen."

"And what is that, Dean? Have you figured that out yet, what I am planning to do? What I have been doing at that church every day for the last two weeks. Who I have been watching? Who _have_ I been watching, Dean? The girls. Are you sure about that, are you 100 percent certain I was watching those girls? Huh- Dean." She taunted at his back, even though she couldn't see his face she knew that she was getting to him by the way his shoulders tightened under his shirt, by the way his neck tilt forward. He was so good about hiding the obvious signs of anger or nervousness, shaky hands, stuttering words, furrowed brow, but he still had tells, still had little ways that almost anyone could tell they had stuck a cord.

"That doesn't matter, because nothing is going down tonight or tomorrow night, or the next night. You know why? Because you princess are going to stay right here. That's why."

She watched the back of Dean. She could see his shoulders holding tightly, he looked strong, imposing despite his momentary lapse in control just moments ago. It reminded her of other young men she knew. It seemed like it had been way too long since she had seen any of them. She kept these thoughts to herself though as she smiled at his back. He wouldn't keep her here. She would get out. He didn't know what or rather who she was.

It was Dean's watch. He didn't trust the thing sitting in the devils trap, but he also needed to do what he needed to do. Sam wouldn't appreciate being woken up earlier just because nature called for Dean. He decided that Ruth would be okay for a little bit. She was relaxed in the chair, her head tilted back, she was seemingly asleep. Dean knew she wasn't, but chose not to say anything before he left. He barely closed the door to the bathroom so the click wouldn't alert her to his absence.

As soon as the door closed, Ruth sat up; she began to rotate her wrists to loosen the knots. While she was doing that, she began to chant Latin under her breath. Slowly the knots pulled apart farther and farther. Ruth began to work her wrists faster, she glanced at the bathroom. Dean was still "occupied." Finally the ropes drop to the ground.

Ruth stood up rubbing at the rope burns around her wrists. She looked carefully at Sam; he was still snoring away on the couch. Glancing at the bathroom door, she caught a glimpse of Dean's shadow as he moved to the sink. Without pausing she swiftly walked out of the Devil's trap and over the circle of salt. The door might have caused an issue if she chose to go through it.

Within seconds Ruth was standing outside on the street. She gasped slightly as blood trickled from her nose, walking had helped the transition to go smoother, but it was getting more and more difficult to do many things. Before she could feel any pain for what that meant, she began staggering down the street. She needed to hide.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

_Author's Note: Okay, first off, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry a thousand times over. I know this took a long time coming, but stuff got busy and life has been close to hell. Just a lot of stuff not working out and my future being F***ed up by Obama cutting programs that should not be cut. But to make up for that this is a fairly long chapter and I promise more soon._

Dean quickly dried his hands before walking out of the bathroom. He was still wondering what kind of a dark evil thing this girl had in her or was. There was nothing in Dad's Journal or any book that explained, even if there was he had no idea where to start. She seemed at first like a hunter or some other person, but she had hinted at being something unnatural when they spoke. He turned to look at her, but was greeted with an unbroken devil's trap and line of salt surrounding an empty chair and ropes.

"Sam!" he yelled at his brother. Sam sat up with a start; pulling out a knife he searched for what was wrong.

"What's wrong, Dean? Where is she?" He asked Dean, spotting the empty chair.

"She's gone. I stepped out of the room for a second and she's gone. What the hell is she!" Dean continued to rage as Sam wondered at the empty chair and unbroken traps. Those were the most powerful traps they knew, Castiel was the one who taught them how to make them.

"Do think maybe she went to the priest?" Sam asked, looking over at Dean as he paced beside the chair.

"Get your coat." He said shortly as he began out the door, snagging his own coat from the couch.

Sam and Dean walked through the large imposing doors of the Chapel. They didn't know where they would find the priest, but the best place they could start would be in the main cathedral. The two boys scanned the main room for any sign of someone. Dean was the first to spot her.

Halfway down the middle aisle of the church Dean saw a hand lying just past the end of the pew. The white skin of her hand was glaring against the darkness of the church. Without hesitation Dean sprinted to the hand, following the arm to the back of a dark haired girl. Sam followed quickly after, looking over his shoulder at the body. Both of them thought the same thing, Ruth. Dean felt in his gut the normal warning to be careful, to not let whatever it is get the jump on him. It was a feeling that quickly covered the fear that any normal person would experience. But then, they were never normal.

Gently he reached out and moved the hair from her face. Looking down at her, Dean realized it wasn't Ruth. Quickly and carefully he pulled her onto her back, her eyes were open and glazed over. Feeling the skin on her arm, he noticed she was freezing. It was like she was dead. Sam was the one who noticed a bag sticking out of her mouth. He told Dean to take it out.

Dean hesitated for a moment, unsure of what would happen. Looking at the bag, he finally decided to listen before Sam did it himself. He pulled the bag out of the girl's mouth. The bag was barely moist having not been her mouth for very long. Sam took the bag and pocketed it for later while Dean was left with the girl leaning on his knees. As soon as the bag left her mouth she gasped for breath. She sat up sharply and started coughing, pushing Dean away from her as he attempted to rub her back to help her calm down.

When the coughing subsided she turned to him and started yelling, asking who he was and why he did that. Asking how he could have done that to her. Dean tried to get her eye contact; his voice was hard as he tried to get her to calm down. Sam yelled at him momentarily before taking over. Dean was glad to get out of the pew.

Sam helped the girl to sit on the seat, and asked if it was okay for him to sit down. She nodded her head absentmindedly as he settled himself by her. He was close, but not that close. He needed to give her space.

"Do you know what happened to you?" He asked softly, not touching her.

"No, I don't know what you did to me." The girl responded, cringing away from him. "One minute I was praying and the next I was out. What did you put in my mouth."

"We didn't put anything in your mouth;" Sam explain calmly, "we pulled this out of your mouth. Do you know who would have done that?"

"No, I don't know who would put a gris-gris bag in my mouth." The girl said, Sam knew that she believed him, but she was still scared. "It had to have been you, no one else was here."

"I promise you, it was not us." Sam told her, risking his hand on her shoulder. She didn't pull away.

"Okay, I believe you." She replied quietly. The silence between them grew, she didn't want to break it and neither boy knew what to say.

Finally Sam asked, "Would you like us to take you home."

The girl replied in a small voice, "Yes, please."

Sam helped her down the pew; she kept a grip on his arm. If she was not so shaken it might have been a strong grip, but the whole ordeal with the gris-gris bag left her scared. She obviously didn't trust the boys, but they did make sense. It couldn't have been them; they were both very strong and easily able to subdue her if they wanted to without the help of voodoo.

Back at the hotel room, Sam spread out four or five books on the bed with the gris-gris bag from the girl's mouth in several pieces. He is measuring the length of one of the bones when Dean gags.

"What?" Sam asks, not understanding his brother's disgust.

"Why are you touching that? Do you know how many different diseases you can get from it?"

"Dude, I'll wash my hands."

"Don't touch it in the first place! All that Hoodoo stuff is just gross."

"Okay, first of all, a gris-gris bag is not hoodoo, it is voodoo. There is a difference. Secondly it is just a bone, no different than one left over from a chicken wing or something. It just has not been cooked. Thirdly, I want to save the girls, not gag over touching a bone."

"What do you mean there is a difference between hoodoo and voodoo, it all uses the same things and operates the same way."

"Dean, Hoodoo is a kind of folk magic from Africa that has been changed slightly to include different plants and some Native American religion. Hoodoo deals mainly with witch doctors and plants, a little stuff with the supernatural. Than Voodoo is basically mysticism and Roman Catholicism. They have very little plants, a lot of bones, a lot of bodily fluids and in general are gross, but hey, it works and a lot of people get hurt if we don't kill the freaking priest."

"Whatever, I'm going out to get dinner. WASH your hands before I get back." Dean replied, to which Sam just rolled his eyes continuing to study the gris-gris bag.

When Dean returned with food, Sam left his studies to wash his hands. He and Dean crashed on the couch to devour their hamburgers.

"So what do you think about the thing?" Dean asked between bites, specks of hamburger flying out of his mouth

"Which thing," Sam asked, "the bag, Ruth, the way our lives are so messed up…"

"Ruth." Dean replied, catching Sam up with his thoughts, "I just can't figure out how she did it. I mean I don't get how she can get out of those things."

"Maybe she is a human, like a priestess or something and used magic to get out." Sam speculated, more concerned with his hamburger and fries than figuring out what some girl is.

"No, she isn't human." Dean replied, "I know that. There is just something about her, just creeps me out."

"I don't know man, she could be." Sam said shrugging. Dean let it rest for a bit while he devoured his hamburger. When he was almost done a thought occurred to him.

"Hey, Sam," Dean asked, "doesn't that church have a basement?"

"Yeah, a lot of them do," Sam replied, not seeing Dean's point, but being his normal over informative self, "remember Pastor Jim's arsenal was in the church basement. It's not surprising; a lot of churches have secret places where Priests can go to pray. Many of them are used for just that purpose, than you have some that repurpose the areas, mainly for storage."

"That's what I was thinking about, the secret places. I mean if Pastor Jim had a place like he did for his weapons, wouldn't there be such a place at the church that would be big enough to hide several bodies and for two people to meet without anyone else knowing about it." Dean replied.

"Yeah, there would be," Sam said, seeing Dean's point, "And I think I know how to get into the one at St. Barbra's."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Sam pushed the door to the church open; the lock on it was broken from the hurricane's winds. He led the way down the center aisle of the Cathedral, sawed off shotgun at the ready. Dean stalking behind him carrying his own shotgun along with his pearl handled pistol in his jeans and the normal assortment of knives he kept with him at all times. They barely made any noise on the marble floor. Sam checked the pews on the right as Dean checked the ones on the left. A quick sweep was all they needed to do, more routine drilled into them by their father than anything.

When they reached the front, Sam jumped the kneeling rail. Turning he covered Dean as he jumped the marble railing; he never let his gun drop or his awareness. Dean turned to watch the front door and the rest of the church as Sam walked up to the altar, searching in the darkness. He checked directly behind the large cloth covered table, looking for anything that might attack him, before turning to find what he was looking for.

An open doorway was directly in front of him, but he knew that wasn't where he wanted to go. Directly to his left was a dark wooden door. It was small and blended into the shadows. Sam signaled to Dean that he found it. Backing up, Dean moved towards the doorway just as Sam started down it, his gun at the ready, sweeping the area in front of him.

Sam reached the bottom of the steps quickly, sweeping the room. He saw four bodies tied to chairs surrounding a pentagram. There was one empty chair; the priest was standing behind it, chanting in Latin. Behind him was standing Ruth, Sam couldn't remember if she was there when he first came down or suddenly appeared. The priest turned just as Sam and Dean came down the steps, his incantation complete. He stabbed Ruth through the head with an angel sword, grabbing her body as she went limp. Placing her in the empty chair, he watched as his handiwork came to life.

Beside four of the girls appeared a double that flickered like a light. As soon as the boys saw them they started shooting rock salt rounds at them. They barely noticed as Ruth grabbed the hilt sticking out of her chin and pulled the knife from her head. She turned to find the priest standing behind her, more concerned with the ghosts that were appearing. A wicked smile crept over his face, this was just the beginning. She lunged at him, stabbing the priest through the heart with the knife. When he was dead she pulled the sword from his limp form. Rushing towards Sam and Dean, she ducked as Sam took a shot at her. He was immediately preoccupied as a ghost threw him into a shelf.

"SAM!" Dean yelled as his brother crumpled to the floor. He turned from the ghost and ran to his side. "Sammy, are you alright!" he yelled as he crouched beside his brother.

"I'm fine." Sam told him, struggling to get up. He had a large gash on his forehead from hitting the ceiling and probably several bruises. Dean grabbed his wrist, helping him up from the floor.

While the brothers were preoccupied, Ruth threw the angel sword into their duffle. Digging through the contents, she searched for a canister of salt and lighter fluid. As soon as she found it she ran toward the four girls around the pentagram. The Priest appeared before she could get there and slammed her into the back wall. She winced as she got up again, rushing towards them again. This time, Dean shot the priest's ghost when he tried to stop her. She rushed forward fearing he might start shooting at her again, but when Sam and Dean realized what she was doing, they switched their focus to shooting the ghosts. She ripped off the cap of the salt and started throwing it on the bodies, as soon as the salt started hitting the bodies, vases and containers from the shelves around the room started flying at Ruth. Holy oil splattering across her coat and coating the floor, Ruth had trouble staying on her feet as more and more oil spilt. She screamed with each impact as the sound of bones breaking cracked in the room. Ignoring the pain she finished the job, throwing lighter fluid on all four. She took out a pack of matches, lighting them on the medallion around her neck, she threw three or four matches on each girl to her sides and split the rest between the two bodies in front of her. The flames roared, engulfing her. The Holy oil on the floor catching fire, making the whole room an inferno, the boys had to turn away.

"Ruth!" Dean screamed, "RUTH! Where are you!" He was still searching through the flames for any sign of the monster. From the flames she emerged, her clothes flaming. Despite the fire licking at her skin she walked calmly and uprightly. Grabbing her arm, Dean dragged her up the steps, Sam following with the duffle. At the top Dean pulled her flaming jacket off of her throwing it onto the altar which flared up. Sam pushed her onto the floor, using his coat to put out the fire on her jeans.

Once her clothing was no longer flaming, Dean grabbed her by the arm, her smoke leaving a trail that quickly met up with the clouds pouring up from the floor. They church was starting to glow with the fire that started to consume anything it could. Dean dragged Ruth by the arm out the door, refusing to let go until he was able to throw her into the backseat of the impala. Ruth quickly curled her legs up before Dean slammed the door into them.

She could stay now. She needed their help. She wouldn't run away again, not until she had to.


	8. Chapter 8

The tires of the Impala squealed as the town by the gulf slowly receded in the rearview mirror. The highway was practically empty when they entered it, headed north out of town. The boy's bags were in the trunk and the hotel room wiped of prints. Except for a few eye witnesses, there would be barely any trace they had even entered the town.

Rubbing the scruff on his face, Dean looked into the rearview mirror at the young girl in his backseat. She looked small, lost, hurt; like some teenager that was just dumped by her boyfriend. That was perhaps the strangest part of her. Right now she looked 16, maybe passing for 17, but that night when Dean had her tied to the chair, he would have sworn she was 24 or 25. That night she looked older, her face more lined, like it had seen more hardships than Dean could ever inflict. Now she just looked scared and disappointed in herself.

"Who are you?" Dean asked, his voice hoarse but certain.

"_My name is Nohbdy: mother father and friends,__everyone calls me Nohbdy__,_* Dean." Ruth told him smiling to herself.

"Noh bdy. You are Nobody?" Dean asked, perplexed.

"It's from Homer's Odyssey;" Sam tells Dean, it was one of the more interesting books on the supernatural that his father made him read, "it's what Odysseus tells the Cyclops when it is drunk."

"Bravo, Samuel very good." Ruth replied, her single handclap ringing through the car.

"But you are not "Nohbdy", you are Maria Laveau, the Queen of Voodoo, or her great granddaughter." Sam claimed from the front seat.

"Good guess, Samuel, but I couldn't stand that bitch when I met her, and I sure as hell cannot stand to be mistaken for her. Thankfully she finally died in 1899. I told her she wouldn't see the new century and I was right."

"Then who are you?" Dean growled again. He was losing patience with this thing that was so obviously not human, but doing a very good impression of one.

"I am Ruth, Dean. That is all you need to know. That and I'm goin' to help you." She told him.

"Oh right." Dean sneered sarcastically. The last supernatural thing that tried to help them ended up corrupting his brother.

"I'm not going to disappear again, Dean. And I'm not a demon and I'm not an angel. I'm just a cursed individual. You would know about that wouldn't you?" Ruth asked, placing her and on his shoulder directly over Castiel's handprint.

"What were you doing in Baton Rouge?" Dean asked, going for the easier question as he shrugged her hand off of him.

"Preventing a holocaust, or at least trying to." she responded flopping back on the backseat. Dean stared hard at her through the mirror. She knew that wasn't what he wanted; it was time to give them more than just cryptic messages and disappearing acts.

"The priest was trying to call up the spirits of everyone who died in Baton Rouge." Ruth told Dean, making eye contact through the mirror, "In a way he succeeded."

"So what, haunted houses are going to double in Baton Rouge?" Sam asked, turning to look at Ruth in the backseat. The open window behind him was blowing his hair around his face, making him look like a twenty something in college again, not a born and bred hunter.

"More like quadruple." Ruth said, turning to Sam her eyes softening, "Every person who has ever died in or around Baton Rouge will be called up. They will converge on the city. Most of them will be stuck at houses, over half of them will fill the cemeteries, it will be standing room only." She said with a broken laugh, like she was trying to soften the new, to make it seem not so bad.

"So, a couple of people will see great-grandma sitting in their living rooms. I'm not seeing the issue here." Dean told Ruth, eyes on the road now. Everything was pitch black, the tall trees lining the highway blotting out almost all light.

"These spirits are all forced to return on earth," Ruth explained to the back of Dean's head, "many are ripped from their final resting places to a place that for many did not hold good memories. A whole tribe of people learned to live in the wasteland that was then violently taken from them and turned into one of the trade centers of the south. It was also one of the prime places to execute pirates from across the Caribbean. Some of the most dangerous and bloodthirsty men were hung in Baton Rouge, some without a trial. At one time it was also the center of the slave trade where chattel was processed. On top of that there are numerous shaman and medicine men who lived in Baton Rouge and were killed there. This isn't just spirits that don't want to let go or have unfinished business. These are spirits that are forced to be here, spirits that will not be happy until they are released."

"So, what do we do?" Sam asked, still looking at Ruth. His face now concerned.

"Salt and burn everybody we can find." Dean said.

"No," Ruth told them with finality, "we finish the spell he started. It has two parts to it. The first part can operate on its own and calls up the spirits. The second part sends them back to their resting places. You'll need to go to Georgia."

*Direct quote from Homer's _Odyssey_ when Odysseus encounters the Cyclops.

A/N: I am so sorry. First my computer crashed and I couldn't use it for a month so I couldn't write anything, then I forgot where this story was going, but I remember now and have changed some of the future events. I'm also sorry this chapter is on the shorter side. I tried to make it more meaningful. Please review. It's not hard and even a few words make my day.


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